Chapter 54

When I found Ashlara and Serah, they were crossing the plains together, streaked with blood. Ashlara favored one leg, a dark red trails running freely from her shoulder and her thigh. Serah walked at her side without a stitch of clothing, head high, her beautiful skin marred by dozens of arrow punctures.

Relief washed through me despite their wounds. I pulled them both into a careful embrace, mindful of torn flesh and broken skin, holding them as gently as I could.

“Hek is dead,” Ashlara said.

“I don’t care,” I told her.

“The Warlord will come for me,” she added, quieter now.

“Let him,” I said. “We’ll be ready. I don’t care about any of it - as long as you’re both safe.”

Then we stepped back into my demesne, and back to the others.

* * *

When we rejoined the others, Mirri and Grams immediately ushered Ashlara and Serah away to tend their wounds. Between them, the two looked like something hauled from a battlefield - slick with blood, torn, and battered - but luck or stubbornness had spared them from the worst of it. None of their injuries were as bad as they looked.

Yveth had examined Grams’ wound while we were gone and unraveled whatever had made it resist healing. After that, Mirri handled the rest with practiced ease. We had two healers now - I didn’t know how we’d managed without them.

By then, exhaustion had settled into my bones. I sank down onto the soft earth and let the ground hold me while Ashlara and Serah recounted what had happened. Mirri filled them in on the chaos at the village, and I added what I could about the attack on the house. The night felt heavy with it all - too many near-misses, too many unanswered questions.

“So no one actually saw this Brand?” I asked, fighting to keep my eyes open.

“Maybe he was the messenger,” Ashlara said.

“Or disguised as Skem,” Mirri added.

“He could have been anyone,” Serah said. “Or no one at all. We don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“I can help with that,” Yveth said. It was the first time she’d spoken in a while, and the quiet authority in her voice pulled everyone’s attention. “Brand gains power from every god he kills. Normally, when a god dies, their Faith returns to the world. When Brand kills one, he absorbs that Faith instead. He keeps it. Makes it his. He is… a patchwork of domains.”

She paused, then continued. “I am certain he was responsible for the passing of four gods. I have suspicions about others. The ones I can confirm are Ilyr - the Pointing Star; Morvane - the Long Agony; Yssene - the Gentle Lie; and Thryx - He Who Remains.”

“Great,” I muttered. “So we’re not dealing with a god killer. We’re dealing with a god eater. And he gets whatever powers they had. What were they gods of?”

“Ilyr was the goddess of Gentle Guidance,” Yveth said. “Morvane, physical pain. Yssene, convenient lies. Thryx, dominant survival. I am certain Morvane’s Faith was used to strike the shaman,” she said, nodding to Grams. “That is why the wound would not heal. I cannot say whether he has directly touched the others.”

I turned to Grams. “What do you remember about the one who stabbed you?”

“Not much,” she said with a shrug. “He was a goblin. Didn’t recognize him. Not sure I would if I saw him again. I was a bit busy killing a dragon.”

“Fair enough,” I said, then added, “Can I ask why you have a gun?”

“The thunder spear?” she said, brightening. “My Da was a great alchemist in your world. Built it himself. Called it a rye-full. Stupid name, if you ask me. There’s no rye in it at all.”

I suppressed a smile.

“We’ve got enough food to last tomorrow, right?”

Grams and Mirri both nodded.

“Good. Yveth, the High Witan wants to meet with me. Do you think it’s a trap?”

She considered it. “I do not. Miralis is many things, but an assassin is not one of them.”

“Do you want to come with me?”

“That would complicate matters,” she said slowly. “You should go alone. You have already antagonized them once. Doing so again, so soon, would be unwise.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go in the morning. After that, Miralis and I are going to have a long talk.” I exhaled and let my eyes finally close. “But right now, I’m going to bed.”

* * *

I woke in a wide, luxurious bed, warmth and weight anchoring me in place. Mirri and Lilae were curled against my right side, small and trusting, their sleep deep and unguarded. Ashlara lay to my left, her head resting on my shoulder, her breath warm against my skin. Beyond her, Serah slept, one arm draped loosely over the orc beside me as if she’d claimed her in the night.

Tall stained-glass windows broke up the seamless white walls, throwing fractured bands of rose and gold across the room. The four-post bed reached from the floor like something grown rather than built - dark wood carved into climbing vines. A matching dresser, a full-length mirror, and a low table lined the far wall. An intricate rug softened the hardwood beneath us.

This was one of the castle chambers at the heart of my demesne. I’d been here before - with Elise, just yesterday. I had no memory of coming here last night at all. The last thing I remembered was collapsing onto the cool grass at the edge of the hastily raised goblin village.

Carefully, slowly, I began to disentangle myself from the tangle of bodies.

Ashlara’s eyes fluttered open.

I raised a finger to my lips. Her gaze followed the gesture, drifted down to Serah’s arm draped over her, then past me to the goblins nestled against my side. Understanding dawned, and she gave a small nod.

Together, we slipped free of the bed without waking anyone.

When we were far enough away, she asked quietly, “How did we get here?”

I shrugged and opened the door.

Down the hall waited an ornate bathing chamber. Steam rolled lazily from an enormous sunken tub already filled to the brim, the water shimmering invitingly. It had been empty the last time I’d shown it to Elise.

“Care to join me?” I asked, already pulling my shirt over my head.

Ashlara flushed instantly, the color blooming rich and dark against her sage-green skin - but she didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on my chest.

I kicked off my boots and pushed my pants down, letting my morning hardness spring free. Her breath hitched audibly, but she still didn’t move.

I smirked and stepped into the pool. Pale tiles formed a geometric pattern beneath the water, and three broad tiers ringed the basin, serving as steps and seats. The water climbed my hips as I waded to the center. Heat sank into my muscles immediately, easing soreness from the previous day.

I lowered myself fully, savoring the warmth, then swam to the far side and settled onto the lowest step. The water lapped at my chest.

“Are you coming in,” I asked lightly, “or are you just going to stare all day?”

She flushed deeper and turned away.

She stood unmoving for several long moments before she slowly removed her leather shirt. I watched as she slowly undressed - shy, self conscious. She unwrapped the bindings across her chest, tugged off her boots, then slid her pants down her long, powerful legs. She never once looked at me.

When she finally turned back the steam had already kissed her skin, giving it a tantalizing sheen. She stepped into the water, cheeks and shoulders still dark with color. Her thick pubic hair gleamed with beads of moisture. Her breasts swayed with each step, heavy and proud. Scars traced her victories - tattoos marked her history. Everything about her was unmistakably orc - alien, fierce, breathtaking.

She stopped in front of me, eyes lowered.

I reached out, seized her hand, and pulled.

She slipped with a startled grunt and splashed down into my lap. I caught her easily, our bodies fitting together as if they’d always known how. I met her gaze for a heartbeat before kissing her. The heat of it burned hotter than the water around us.

After the brief shock, she kissed me back with equal hunger.

My hand closed around her breast as our tongues tangled. She moaned into my mouth and shifted, straddling me fully, pinning my erection between us. I groaned as she ground against me, her wet bush dragging along my shaft, sparks of pleasure racing through my spine.

Without breaking the kiss, I lifted her hips. My tip slipped free and pressed against her slick folds. She lowered herself with agonizing slowness until I was buried to the hilt. She groaned, deep and rough, as her walls clenched and kneaded me. My hips bucked on instinct, and her arms locked around my shoulders. She threw her head back and growled, raw and unrestrained.

Together, we set a furious pace. Our hips drew back, then slammed together, each thrust long and hard, battering her deep enough to send water sloshing over the sides of the pool. Her climax built quickly - fingers digging into my back, thighs clamping tight as she gave a low, broken groan. Her body convulsed around me, spasming and squeezing for long, breathless moments until I lost all control.

I came hard inside her, thick ropes flooding her heat as my hips jerked helplessly. The world narrowed to nothing but her - her grip, her voice, the way she milked every last pulse from me.

When it passed, I sagged back against the stone. Her climax lingered longer, trembling through her until her hold finally softened.

“That,” I said, breathless, my grin matching hers, “is how you start the day right.”

* * *

Ashlara and I dressed, then gathered the drowsy goblins and dragon back in the bedroom. Together, we left the castle and made our way down to the rough village I’d thrown together the day before. It was late enough in the morning that people were already awake and moving about. The air was thick with the smells of breakfast sizzling on stoves, smoke curling from hearth fires, and the sharp tang of livestock. Voices drifted between the huts - neighbors talking, children crying, life stubbornly continuing.

They were wounded. They were shaken. They had no idea what the future held. But for now, they were safe.

Grams was already up, moving from person to person, checking wounds, handing out supplies, making sure no one had been forgotten. She didn’t know how we’d ended up in the castle either, but she told us Yveth had left sometime during the night.

I kissed my girls, hugged them close, then turned inward and focused on my Faith-scape. All four of my strongest anchors were here with me, which made finding an external foothold harder than usual. Eventually, I caught hold of a distant beacon that felt like Reedwatch and stepped.

I emerged at a crossroads roughly an hour outside the village. Close enough. I walked the rest of the way.

The smell of smoke lingered faintly in the air, only noticeable once I drew near. Nearly a full day had passed, yet some buildings still smoldered - thin threads of gray smoke drifting lazily through the winter cold. The destruction was staggering. That so few lives had been lost still felt like a small miracle.

Mirri’s stone cage still stood near the center of town. Shattered, half-frozen chunks of warg lay scattered around it, grim remnants of Yveth’s intervention. Scavengers had already begun to gather as I made my way toward the stone circle where I’d left Miralis. If she was still waiting, that was where she would be.

I hadn’t invited her into my demesne. I didn’t know if she could enter without me - and even if she couldn’t, I wasn’t willing to risk it. I didn’t trust her. Not yet. What few cards I held, I intended to keep close.

As I approached the circle, the air shimmered. Soft flame flickered into existence, and from it stepped the bronze woman. Her expression was tight, her presence heavy. The air itself seemed to bow under her anger. I’d felt something like this before - in the presence of the god of dragons.

A god’s wrath was a tangible thing.

“The High Witan will wait no longer,” she snapped.

“It doesn’t have to,” I replied evenly. “After this, you and I are going to talk.”

“What makes you think I won’t smite you before that happens?” she hissed.

I smiled, unbothered by the threat. “Because you need me,” I said simply. “Now let’s go. I have people to protect and a god eater to kill.”